


Of Blades and Nostalgia

by Quincy_Bright



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!, 鬼滅の刃 | Kimetsu no Yaiba (Manga)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Kamado Tanjiro reincarnated as Yamamoto Takeshi, Other tags to be added, Reincarnation, Spoilers, Vague References, cause Manga's not done, for the love of it, please, there's spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-03
Updated: 2020-03-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:55:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22985929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quincy_Bright/pseuds/Quincy_Bright
Summary: “I’m Yamamoto Takeshi now.” He mouths curiously, absorbing it in.(—and recalls distantly of a water dragon that swirled into a burning fire. The desperate search for Muzan as he left death and chaos in his wake. The demons he encountered and the pillars he fought alongside with. His friends that helped him along his journey and their names. Zenitsu, he whispered first, then Inosuke, Genya and Kanao. And finally, his sister.Nezuko.)He nods his head once and smiles.“Sounds about right.”(Or the time Tanjirou Kamado reincarnates as Yamamoto Takeshi and brings the Breath of Badassery with him.)
Relationships: Kamado Tanjirou & Yamamoto Takeshi, Yamamoto Takeshi & Yamamoto Tsuyoshi
Comments: 24
Kudos: 306





	Of Blades and Nostalgia

**Author's Note:**

> I am in disbelief at how there's no fic, not even a single one, about this glorious idea! Have you seen Kamado Tanjiro and Yamamoto Takeshi? Their tendency to smile and their overall disposition is such a match! Not to mention they're both water themed (ignoring Tanjiro's Dance of the Fire God, of course). This idea has been sitting in my laptop for way too long! 
> 
> Hope you enjoy it!
> 
> (Crossposted with Fanfiction.Net under the name xXLuneaXx.)
> 
> ALSO THERE'S SPOILERS, READ AT YOUR DISGRESSION!

_“Some people believe that we go on living in another body after death, that we lived before. They call it reincarnation. That we all lived before on the earth thousands of years ago or on some other planet. They say we have forgotten it. Some say they remember their past lives.”_ \- James Joyce

* * *

When Kamado Tanjiro remembered his past memories, it was hardly jaw-dropping or anything dramatic. There was no surprise, no pain. Only the flash of a kitchen knife slicing through salmon with an ease that awes him. It was the way it gleamed, the way it flowed like a river flowed down a stream, and the swiftness of it. Reminiscent to the swordsmen that would swing coloured blades and rush into battle with the flutter of vibrant _haori*_ jackets behind their backs. At the elements they wielded as if they were their own force of nature made human form. 

He took a deep, calm breath at the first set of memories that came rushing back at the image. At the flashes of yellow hair, a loud roar that resounds through his ears, and blossom pink eyes staring back at him. The silver glimpse of the battles that were fought, both defeats and victories that settles back into the forefront of his mind. 

Tanjiro _breathes_. 

Letting the memories to step back, and instead, focusing on the new sensations that he welcomes back. Marveling at the various scents that greets him as if a long lost friend. Taking in the smell of smoldering cinders from the candle wicks and the metallic tang from the kitchen knives and the other hundred scents flickering by. 

It was as if a curtain revealed itself to him and all he could do was stare, mesmerised by the blade that continued to move and the man who wielded it.

It reminds him of his teacher, the way the knife cuts through the air as if the water itself. The days Urokodaki would practice his own swordsmanship under the sun. Each swing of his blade purposeful and precise that never fails to make Tanjiro gasp in wonder, or the way Giyuu would cut silently through his enemies as if the flowing tides himself. Of the hellish training he had to go through before he could even reach a meager level of what they could do. 

It was soothing as he let his eyes droop at the nostalgia that swept him away. 

"Takeshi? Is everything alright?" The wielder finally spoke, and the unexpectedness of his voice broke through Tanjiro's reverie with a startled blink. 

He trailed his eyes upwards, meeting the curious face of the chef that had paused in his craft to stare. A face Tanjiro finally recognised once he shoved past the memories that had clouded his mind. Of the boy who had walked the path of a demon slayer in hopes of curing his demonised sister. Of the boy who wielded both water and fire with his coal coloured sword. Of the boy who empathised so strongly with demons that it became his greatest strength.

Of a boy that no longer lives.

Instead, there’s a boy named Yamamoto Takeshi that lives in the small town of Namimori. The son of Yamamoto Tsuyoshi who owns one of the most beloved sushi restaurants in town called Takesushi. A mother who died too early for the boy to ever get to know her other than her gentle and kind smile that reflects back from the alter they made for her. A boy who is currently seven-years-old and plays and loves baseball to a fanatic degree. 

Takeshi pops his mouth open in an 'oh' at the remembrance before smiling up at his father. 

"I'm fine, father! I just thought the fish smelled really, really strong this time!" Takeshi chirped, wrinkling his nose dramatically.

It didn’t take long for Takeshi to realise that Tsuyoshi was staring now, a hard glint in his eyes that sends shivers down his spine. It was sharp, tentative in a way that Takeshi recognised in seasoned demon slayers as they went for the kill. Characteristic in the way their eyes narrowed inquisitively whenever something of importance catches their eye. It was a gaze that subtly whispered of a chance to strike.

It makes Takeshi speculate.

The boy tilted his head, smiling at his father’s stare despite the awkward furrow of his brows. Doing his best to conceal the unease he felt towards the cryptic gaze. He didn’t say anything wrong, did he? 

"...Father?" Takeshi asked hesitantly. 

The air soured sharply, and Takeshi nearly flinched at the sudden distress and alarm that practically rolled out of the adult in waves. Zeroing towards his father that was now sporting a frown, brown eyes going complicated, and the hand gripping his kitchen knife tightening to the point his veins were starting to pop out. Takeshi tensed, cold sweating as he tried to remember what he did wrong to resort to such a reaction, sorting through the jumble of new memories that stacked upon each other in his head.

A lightbulb pinged. 

Takeshi looked up from his bangs slowly before a shy smile graced his lips, “Dad?"

Tsuyoshi’s heavy stare lifted, earlier distress practically flung out the door as the man grinned. He brandished his kitchen knife up while hauling the massive fish up with his other hand. 

"You’ll need to get used to this, Takeshi! The life of a sushi chef is no job for the weak!” Tsuyoshi practically roars and for a split second, Takeshi sees a world of flames and a face smiling through it all. 

With a blink, the image was gone as his dad offered a grin, "And are you a weak man, Takeshi?" 

Takeshi laughs brightly, "No, I'm strong!" 

“Atta boy!” His dad cheered. “Once you grow up, I’ll teach you the ways of the knife!”

“Mhm!” The boy hummed back just as cheerfully.

The customers that had been around had only chuckled at the father and son’s antiques. No doubt used to these bouts of excited shouts that belonged solely to the Yamamotos, second only to the Sasagawas of course. 

“Oi! Yamamoto-san, stop hogging your son and share him with the rest of us already!” An elderly lady spoke up as she giggled behind a raised hand. 

“Yeah, yeah!” Another one chimed in and Takeshi flushed a bit. 

Sending a sheepish grin towards Tsuyoshi, Takeshi hopped down from his seat to greet the elderly customers first. They reminded him way too much of Hisa, the old lady that helped Tanjiro and his friends after the fight with that _koto_ demon, and Takeshi couldn't help but smile happily at the remembrance. 

"How may I take your orders, ladies?" He beams. 

It was as if his words were a catalyst as the old ladies immediately started to gush, tugging at his cheeks and asking him all sorts of questions that Takeshi indulged just as enthusiastically. It was as if the moment of revelation hadn't happened as he went back to the norm that existed in his life, smiling and laughing with memories of a past life latching to his person. 

Nothing seems to have changed, Takeshi couldn't help but think to himself.

If Takeshi hadn't been as caught up with the ladies in front of him and the thoughts in his head, perhaps he would have noticed the sharp eyes that followed him for the rest of that day.

* * *

When the shop closed, Takeshi sighed with relief as he stood inside his room, stretching his stiff body for a work well done in entertaining the regulars. It wasn't long before Takeshi caught sight of his appearance on the standing mirror, and couldn't resist taking a closer look at himself. It was strange to see the boy he's always been and see it overlap with the distant past, images of red eyes replacing chocolate browns, and brown hair in favour of black. Scars that no longer exist alongside his coloured _haori_ and _hanafuda*_ earrings that had carried a legacy. 

He removed the hand that was touching the edge of his eye and opened his mouth.

“I’m Yamamoto Takeshi now.” He says, absorbing it in. 

(—and recalls distantly of a water dragon that swirled into a burning fire. The desperate search for Muzan as he left death and chaos in his wake. The demons he encountered and the pillars he fought alongside with. His friends that helped him along his journey and their names. Zenitsu, he whispered first, then Inosuke, Genya and Kanao. And finally, his sister.

 _Nezuko_.)

He nods his head once and smiles. 

“Sounds about right.”

* * *

Life continued. Takeshi slept, ate, and went to school. He laughed alongside his classmates, smiled at the conversations at hand, and rushed to the baseball field whenever he had the chance. He lived the life of Yamamoto Takeshi because that is who he is. 

There’s just the extra things in his life now. The new perspective once his memories from the time he was Kamado Tanjiro came back to him. It makes him more aware than he’s ever been before, noting how everything has changed since his era, _their_ era. It was the way he saw new improved cars that passed the streets, the huge buildings that lined down them, and the sheer technological advance since his time. Taking his sweet moment to walk the streets towards his elementary school, admiring the changes, the _people_ and the sheer lack of demon entity there is amongst them. At the peace they’ve all fought so hard for. 

At the sacrifices they had to make to get to this point. 

(—he remembers the death of his brothers and sister, his mother, his father. The cold hands of the dead children that bade him farewell with a scarred cheek and soul blue eyes. The desperate tears of a demon that wished for death. The last shuddering breath of a pillar that wore the embers of fire behind his back. The names of the fallen that was crowed one at a time—)

He remembers and cherishes, embraces it, and thanks them all. The cries they shed back then and the hardships they had to go through to give this new life that could have been overrun with the terror of Muzan in the shadows. The closest to peace they could have achieved in their lifelong goal. 

‘Thank you.’ He writes once on his _ema*_ in his next visit to the shrine. ‘For everything you’ve done. I wish you a life lived to the fullest the next time around.’

This is his last wish as Kamado Tanjiro, at least, a decision that he’ll make under that name. 

Takeshi breathes. Small hands clasped around the _ema_ before jogging towards the thousands of plaques covering a wide board. The people’s wishes are written on each of them, ranging from a plethora of topics. Family, friends, success, love, everything. He places his own _ema_ next to a hundred others and prays. 

“Takeshi? You coming?” His dad’s voice resounds from a distance, and taking a moment to gather his thoughts, Takeshi whirls around with a bright grin upon his face.

“Coming, dad!” 

He races, practically fumbling in his steps to clasp the bigger hand reached out to him. Feeling the calluses on Tsuyoshi’s warm hands that takes his without hesitation and starts leading him down the shrine. Takeshi huddles into his scarf to protect him from the wintry breeze that swoops down from the sky, and feeling satisfied, carefully peers up. He takes in Tsuyoshi’s face that stares forwards, at the warm flush in his cheeks, and the fullness of it. Unlike the sunken eyes that used to stare tiredly out into the woods from their place on the _futon*_ , or the wet coughs they would try to hide. The breath Takeshi held in his chest whooshes out between parted lips, and he grips the hand holding his a bit tighter, a bit longer. 

“Hey, dad?” Takeshi starts a bit demurely. 

The man tilts his head down towards Takeshi, “Hm? What is it, Takeshi?”

Takeshi stares for a little longer, but the silence that he holds breaks for a smile that causes his dad to pause in his steps. 

“I love you!” Takeshi says, cheeks warming at his own forwardness. 

It’s just...he never got to say it enough the first time around before father passed, leaving him alone with a duty to uphold and a family to protect. He wonders if he could change that. 

He watches, fascinated by the red that travels up Tsuyoshi’s ears, and the gruff way he rubs at the bottom of his nose. A palm pushes his head down, sudden but not unkindly as Takeshi blinks at the hand carding through his hair. At the long digits that twists his locks. Takeshi turns his head up.

“Love you too, Takeshi.” There’s a tenderness there, a fondness. Delicate in the way his hand smoothed down Takeshi’s hair and the softening of his eyes. He’s never seen this before, Takeshi thinks, or he’s never noticed that his dad made expressions like that. He’d always laugh and grin and smile, of course, but this is something...more. He can’t explain it in words, but the scent he catches makes him smile warmly. It’s beautiful and saturated with happiness and _love_. 

He should say it more from now on. 

* * *

That did not mark the day he’ll just forget the life he lived as Kamado Tanjiro. He values the memories he recalls, thanks whatever divine being that granted this gift, and perhaps only regret a little to remember the pains they also brought in equal measures. Takeshi just didn’t want everything to revolve around those memories any longer, to be hung over the past and let it crush him in its burdens. Rather, he’d like to use what he’s learned in his past life to guide him in this new one. 

Because he remembers his sister, her smile, and her hopes with every tight grip of her hand in his. The future they wanted together, spent happy and to its fullest. Human. 

If she was here now, if she saw him even grovel over the distant past that has long since passed, she’d chastise him. The way she would when they were younger at the cusp of youth, frowning tightly, hands placed on both her hips. It’s so vivid, Takeshi thinks fondly. 

“Live.” She’d say. “To the fullest this time around, brother.” 

He will. 

And he’ll start now.

* * *

Safe to say, Takeshi didn’t know if Nezuko would be proud or exasperated when he practically adopts Sawada Tsunayoshi upon sight.

**Author's Note:**

> Haori - A traditional Japanese hip- or thigh-length kimono-style jacket.
> 
> Hanafuda -Playing cards of Japanese origins similar to the Western-style playing cards such as Jack, King, Queen. The name “Hanafuda” denotes flower cards. Tanjiro wears them as earrings.
> 
> Ema - Ema are small wooden plaques, common to Japan, in which Shinto and Buddhist worshippers write prayers or wishes.
> 
> Futon - Japanese traditional style of bedding.
> 
> Did you like it? Then I'm glad! Hopefully, I'm available to write the next chapter soon!


End file.
